


Educating the Young

by orphan_account



Series: Educating the Young [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Rimming, Sex Education
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-31
Updated: 2011-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-21 07:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Underage!Arthur (age 17) and OlderNeighbour!Eames become friends, then something that polite company would raise an eyebrow at, and then something that should absolutely not be mentioned to anyone else, ever. Eames talks the boy through his first blowjob, and then embarrasses the boy by rimming him, though results suggest he likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Educating the Young

Eames had seen Arthur around the apartment building; he lived two floors above the boy and his mother, and there didn’t seem to be a father in the picture. He was a little gangly, a lot sullen, and with a face that looked impossibly young despite a darkness in his eyes that spoke of a sharp awareness beyond his years. His leanness was beginning to show a hint of muscle that was likely to develop into grace with time and he walked with the confident bravado that can only come from being 17 and knowing everything.

Inviting the kid in for a cup of tea when he found him locked outside the apartment building waiting for his mom to get home was just neighbourly kindness. The chat over tea, once he could actually get the boy talking beyond single-word answers, revealed a fierce intelligence and a love of books that maybe shouldn’t be surprising but it was. Arthur was obviously used to being underestimated, if his impatience with Eames’s questions was any indication. But Eames was just delighted to discover another human being who had even read John Gardner’s Grendel, much less loved it beyond all sense and reason. He suspected it was that - his willingness to talk human to human - more than his actual questions that caused Arthur to relax and open up.

It felt natural to invite Arthur back for the next day so he could have time to dig up his copy of The Good Fairies of New York to lend him. After that the invitations weren’t even necessary. The boy just kept showing up at his door, saying his mom worked afternoon shifts usually anyway, but not really giving a reason for being there apart from that. Eames isn’t really sure when things moved on from being perfectly appropriate and into the territory of something he would probably not feel comfortable explaining to polite company. But seeing as how it was unlikely to come up in any conversation anyway, Eames opted not to resolve the issue in his head.

They watched movies or talked and sometimes Arthur went home after a few hours, but other times he’d stay and Eames would order in food. It didn’t take long before Arthur began to invade Eames’s space, and Eames would like to say that he resisted the efforts, but if he was honest he’d have to admit his attempts were fairly half-hearted. When Arthur smiled at him and laughed brightly, Eames just basked in the beauty of it. He could remember being this cocksure when he was that age, though he was more of a troublemaker and less focused than Arthur appeared to be. And Arthur seemed to have a thirst for learning coupled with a youthful impatience that comes from too many lesson paces that are always too slow.

They talked about relationships; Arthur explained why his Friday nights were always free now. His best friends Yusuf and Ariadne had finally pulled it together after years of dancing around each other, and now they were sickeningly in love. His friends Dom and Mal were probably going to get married someday, although he doesn’t see much of them any more since they graduated last year and moved out of town to study architecture at University. Arthur himself had had a few girlfriends, but he admitted to feeling pretty lukewarm about the lot of them. Eames was beginning to suspect why.

He didn’t encourage it when Arthur would brush against him in the kitchen, or crowd him into the counter just shy of too-obvious. He couldn’t claim that he discouraged it, either, though. He noticed that Arthur would make a point of waiting until Eames sat down first, and deliberately sit too close. It happened by degrees, until over the course of weeks Eames was comfortably resting his arm over Arthur’s shoulders on the sofa, then lazily stroking his thumb over his shoulder. When Arthur’s hand rested on his thigh, alarm bells rang in his head, but far too quietly, like they were in someone else’s building. Arthur was well-read, had insightful things to say and enjoyed the same ridiculous nerdy humour that Eames did, and he was enjoying his company so thoroughly he just didn’t think about it.

\---

He not really sure how he got to this point, though. Eames thinks Arthur has never looked lovelier, all flushed and pliant, hair a bit disheveled and arousal making him almost appear sleepy.

“Come on, Eames. I want to do this, but it would go a lot better if you’d coach me through it, right?”

Eames hesitates. Admittedly, the time to stop this insanity would have been before the kissing. Or partway through it, maybe before the tongues; probably before Arthur got his shirt off, which is what mussed his hair so fetchingly; definitely before finding his hand rubbing the boy’s erection through his trousers while Arthur’s impossibly long legs straddle him on the sofa. This is Eames’s brain trying desperately to catch up, but it’s apparently several laps behind because Arthur is sliding down his body, settling himself between his legs and is already working his belt open. His brain didn’t have a hope, really.

Eames reaches his hand down to stroke Arthur’s cheek with his thumb, using his fingers to tilt his face up and bending forward to kiss him again, unable to resist his delectable face. His kiss is hungry but not hard, intent on tasting Arthur’s lips, licking into his mouth and exploring him. Arthur is so pliant underneath that kiss, allowing the exploration and returning it with his own less expert licks. It’s wet, so wet and soft, his tongue fluttering and lips silken and yielding. Eames can’t remember ever having a kiss feel this lush and slick.

Eames sits back finally; Arthur looks even more rumpled and debauched than before as he bites his lower lip and scrapes it before letting it go. Eames doesn’t know if he does it unconsciously, but its effect is seductive as hell, and whatever objections he had are flambeed into oblivion. So he nods just a fraction and flicks his eyes to his belt and back to Arthur. Arthur grins and returns to undoing the belt.

Arthur unzips him, the noise loud with only their breathing to compete with it, and Eames lifts his hips to pull his trousers and boxer briefs down below his knees and off one foot, and rucking his t-shirt up out of the way. Arthur wraps his hand around the base of Eames’s cock, just looking at it, apparently mesmerized to see one uncut. Eames lets his knees drop wider and returns to stroking Arthur’s cheekbone with his thumb. It’s clear Arthur is eager, but it’s equally clear that he isn’t going to improvise here. He’s waiting.

“Why don’t you just start by kissing it?” Eames says. Arthur must have seen blowjobs before in porn, has probably even received a few from the handful of girlfriends he’s had. But Eames isn’t going to rush this and despite the fact that he feels like he’s about to crest the first big hill of an old fashioned roller coaster, he’s determined to take this step by step until he just can’t any more.

“Can I see you... um. Can I see you touch it first?” Arthur says, more curious than hesitant. Eames understands; he wants to see the foreskin, see how it moves. So he takes his hand from Arthur’s face and places it over Arthur’s own hand, and instead of jacking himself, he helps Arthur do it. He adjusts Arthur’s fingers to grip him gently, moving the skin up and down, pulling his foreskin back just halfway before letting it slip back over the head.

“Like this, love. Just a little at first; you have to work up to pulling it all the way back when I’m this hard,” he’s saying, his voice a low rumble. He keeps a lazy pace, watching Arthur’s face as he stares, fascinated. When Arthur licks his lower lip, Eames tracks the movement and decides to push things forward. He removes his own hand and lets Arthur continue on his own.

“Put your mouth on it. Just the head,” and his voice is steady only through herculean effort. His heart is hammering in his chest.

Arthur leans forward, still moving his hand at the pace that Eames had set, and parts his lips. His tongue comes out tentatively, but he doesn’t begin by licking, just touches it to the tip of Eames’s cock incidentally on his way to wrapping his mouth around it. Arthur is suckling gently and still moving his hand, his tongue moving around the head a little, exploring the taste and texture. Eames focus swims for a second as he almost goes cross-eyed.

“A little more, Arthur. Take it a bit deeper. That’s it, just like that.” He puts a hand to the side of Arthur’s head, threading his fingers through his tousled curls, and tilts his head the other way to see the view from the side. “A little more, and pull back. That’s right, let it get wet. Christ do you see what you do to me? Look, love.” And Arthur does, pulls back enough to see his own saliva glistening and Eames’s erection redder than when they started. “Again, Arthur. Take it deeper this time.”

This time Arthur moves his hand right back down to the base, scratching his fingers through Eames’s slightly sweat-damp hair while sinking his mouth as far as he can, until it hits the back of his mouth. He frowns.

“Just take what you can. Move on and off, you’re so good, Arthur. _Fuck_ you’re so beautiful like this. Use your hand for whatever you can’t take. Yeah, god, yeah. Like that. Suck the head again, like you did before. Mm.” Eames licks his own lips as Arthur begins to move on his own without instruction, wrapping his hand around his girth when he’s not taking Eames deep and then back out again, sucking and licking. Eames thinks Arthur sucks cock like he kisses, impossibly wet and yielding. He’s trying not to thrust up into that gorgeous mouth, but manages only in limiting himself to small pulses of his hips.

Eames is ruffling through Arthur’s hair tighter now and he knows he’s close. He shouldn’t be, he’s not a teenager any more, but this is Arthur and he’s just so fucking _earnest_ about this, so focused and his mouth is so soft and hot.

He feels the rumbling tightness beginning and he wants, oh how he _wants_ to come on Arthur’s face, mark him like he’s his. But this is Arthur’s first time so he grips Arthur’s hair even tighter ready to pull him off and grits out, “You’re gonna make me come, fuck, Arthur, gonna..” and Arthur pulls off, still stroking and staring at that foreskin slipping back and forth, rubs his thumb over the tip and Eames is coming in long arcing spurts over his own stomach and Arthur’s fingers.

Arthur lifts his hand up to his face and fucking _licks_ some of the come off the back of his thumb, and Eames’s last bit of breath is forced out of him at the sight. Arthur looks up at him and smiles.

Eames takes a few breaths to steady himself before standing them both up and lifting his own t-shirt over his head, using it to wipe Arthur’s hand before cleaning himself. Then Eames gathers him up and kisses him thoroughly, wraps his whole body around him and just kind of possesses him with his hands.

“Arthur,” Eames mumbles against his lips. “Arthur, I want to make you feel good. Will you let me do that for you?”

Arthur pulls back looking amused and very, very turned on and says, “What did you have in mind?”

“Just trust me, love. You’ll love it. I’m not going to fuck you.”

“You could, though. If you want,” Arthur replies. It makes Eames lose focus again, but he can’t. He won’t. Arthur is handsy now, running his fingers over Eames’s chest and stomach, wrapping his fingers around his biceps, then under his arms to explore his back. But his eyes don’t waver from Eames’s face.

“In here, come on,” Eames places his hand at the small of Arthur’s back and leads him towards the bedroom. He knows he ought to stop things now, but in for a penny, in for a pound and although he’s already come, he just can’t get enough of Arthur. Once there he sits Arthur down and kneels between his legs, holding his face with both hands and kisses him again. Arthur is so responsive every time he does, he thinks he could never tire of this, could just kiss him and kiss him and forget about the rest of the world if Arthur could just keep kissing back like this. He raises himself up off his knees and pushes Arthur backwards, propping himself with one arm and running his other hand up and down Arthur’s side. Before long he’s working at Arthur’s jeans, deftly undoing the button and zip left-handed, and Arthur moves to help him slip them off.

He kneels back down, Arthur propping himself on his elbows to watch, obviously expecting the same as he gave. Eames places soft sucking kisses on his inner thighs, hands on his knees to spread them. Arthur looks beautiful and obscene, his narrow chest heaving and his cock so stiff, laying slightly askew on his belly. Eames works his kisses upwards until he’s nosing against Arthur’s testicles, kissing the tender skin just underneath. Arthur gasps and jumps away.

“Fuck! Eames, what.”

“Just trust me, darling. Just close your eyes and feel it.” Arthur’s chest is still rising and falling rapidly as he gives Eames a measuring stare. He can see as Arthur comes to a decision and lets his eyes slip closed and lays back, visibly relaxing into the bed. Eames grasps Arthur by the hips to shift him a little closer to the edge of the bed and pushes his left leg a little further open.

He returns his lips to Arthur’s delicate perineum and after a kiss or two tries a lick, just firm enough not to tickle. Arthur’s breath hitches but he stays put, so Eames deepens his licks and moves downwards, caressing around his pink puckered hole. It spasms under his tongue but Arthur himself stays gamely still, and Eames’s chest tightens at the amount of trust the boy has in him. At that thought he moves a hand up to Arthur’s side, soothing him with broad, warm strokes as he begins to lick right over his hole, increasing his pressure just enough to feel the resistance of that ring of muscle. He can hear Arthur’s breath getting faster and the rest of his body relaxing even further.

Eames pushes both of Arthur’s legs up, and positions his feet on both of his shoulders. His flexibility is astonishing, but this position has the advantage that if Arthur wants it to stop, he can simply push with his feet. Arthur obviously doesn’t want it to stop. Eames begins to lick in earnest, using his lips to suck on the skin and dipping his tongue deeper into Arthur’s velvety heat. Arthur is having increased difficulty keeping still although he’s clearly trying. But now instead of wanting to move away, he appears to want to grind into it, so Eames lifts off and says,

“It’s okay, love, I can take it. I’ll fuck you with my tongue until you come.”

And it’s likely only because of the strangeness of it that Arthur hasn’t come yet already, young as he is, but Eames thinks it’s high time Arthur’s cock was touched after being neglected for so long, so he grasps it and strokes firmly while wiggling his tongue in as far as he can manage. That’s all it takes and Arthur is bucking against him, simultaneously trying to jerk up into his hand and against his tongue, ending up with only uncontrolled spasms. Eames feels hot liquid pouring over his fingers and the muscles of his hole clenching around him, and once again he feels dizzy with desire.

He’s hard again, but this is enough. He moves up and shifts Arthur up to rest on the pillows and nips off to the bathroom, coming back with a warm wet cloth. He settles in beside him, holding him close while he gently cleans up Arthur’s skin. Arthur is sweaty and breathing heavily, utterly spent. Eames puts the cloth on the table and runs his fingers all over Arthur’s torso, gently kissing his shoulder.

“How was that? Strange?”

“No. Yes,” Arthur replies, clearly trying to kick his brain back into gear. “That was. Fuck. That was amazing. We have to do this again.”

Eames laughs, a low rumble he feels in his chest. “Oh, Arthur. The things I want to do to you. You really shouldn’t encourage me. But I really won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“But you’ll fuck me, right? I think I’d like you to fuck me,” Arthur says casually, so matter of fact as he is about everything.

“Perhaps. But if we do, we’ll do it properly. No rushing, no penetration until you’re absolutely ready, not even if you beg,” Eames says, then smirks. “And believe me, if we do this my way, you will be begging for it.” Arthur smiles and punches him lightly on the arm then rolls in to rest his head on his shoulder, neither of them in a rush to move just for the moment.

\---End---

  


**Author's Note:**

> I want to pay tribute to [ for posting some truly inspirational images and for hosting a community in which we can, in good company, comfortably and cheerfully find (fake) jailbait!JGL delectably debauchable. For the record, the third pair of images ](cherrybina.livejournal.com)[here ](http://cherrybina.livejournal.com/196342.html?thread=12534006#t12534006)are the versions I pictured while writing this. And I totally used [this gif](http://pics.livejournal.com/eternalsojourn/pic/00077h5r) to fuel the description of Arthur with his shirt off. Why yes, I’m going to hell, anyone want to carpool?


End file.
